Because of History
by ModernScribe
Summary: It all started because of history. When their high school class is taken hostage, Matt makes the foolish choice of trying to reason with the HT. Emily's just there to save all their butts. Alternate Timeline. Language warning. Hints of romance.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't not, not own it.**

**Personal Disclaimer: Any similarities between these characters and real people and events are intentional, but should not be taken as any indication of my mental state. The fact that my life inspired a hostage story is purely coincidental.**

**Time: Mid to late 1980s.**

**Setting: Ronald Reagan High School. Senior Year.**

**Genre: Action/Adventure, Crime, Friendship, Romance**

**Warning: "I only speak two languages: English and bad English."—Corbin Dallas, _The Fifth Element_. Consider yourself warned, foul language ahead.**

**Summary: It all started because of history. When their high school class is taken hostage, Matt makes the foolish choice of trying to reason with the HT. Emily's just there to save all their butts.**

**A/N: In honor of the one year anniversary since my first posting here on fanfiction, I have decided to finally release this story from my graveyard (AKA my computer's harddrive.) Just a few things to keep in mind: this is set before cell phones, it is AU, and the story is eight chapters long (if I decide to post the epilogue and I may not.) I've kept the characters mostly cannon with a few liberties that I don't think are too far-fetched. As I started writing, I noticed some striking similarities between this story and a very popular 1980s television show. In honor of that show, I decided to name one of my characters after one of its main characters. Kudos to the person who can guess the character and show. I will reveal it in the last chapter.**

**This chapter is pretty short. Rest assured they will get longer.**

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**Because of History**

Chapter 1

"So again, the four main causes of the Great Depression were overproduction, speculation, poor political leadership, and…."

Here Emily tuned out. She had always considered herself a fan of history, but she had to admit that her enthusiasm was fast waning in Mrs. Sherwood's class.

Mrs. Sherwood was, frankly put, boring. Her lectures were long, prone to tangents, and exceedingly repetitive. By the end of each class, at least half of the students were asleep.

Not that that Mrs. Sherwood seemed to notice. She just went right along lecturing, seemingly oblivious to the snores all around her. The only indication that she even knew her students existed was her weekly quizzes. Her weekly quizzes were practically legalized torture. Even Emily, who had always done well in history before, had trouble passing the quizzes. Mostly this was because the questions tended to be too vague and the answers too specific. It was a hard balance that Mrs. Sherwood had yet to master.

Honestly, it was starting to get on Emily's nerves. Why would a teacher who obviously didn't know how to teach be teaching? She should just do them all a favor and retire.

The only thing Emily had to thank for her relatively good grade was her history class back at her old school. She'd transferred to Reagan High late in the year, and her history class there had already made it to the Vietnam War. Mrs. Sherwood was still stuck on the Great Depression, despite the fact that school would be out in a matter of days. They'd already taken their semester exams and it was only by grace of God (and a giant curve) that Emily had scraped by with an A. Other classes were just goofing off, but Mrs. Sherwood was determined to finish the curriculum even if it was too late for the test. What for was anyone's guess.

Emily looked up at the sound of the door opening. A boy entered.

His hair was light brown and his clothes were baggy and worn. She thought she might have a class with him or at least have seen him in the halls before, but with a school the size of Reagan High, it was very easy to get lost in the crowd.

Still, you'd think she'd remember those eyes. They were a pale, cerulean blue framed with girlishly long black eyelashes. They would have been beautiful if not for the strange, nearly undetectable glint behind them. In the second that his gaze had met hers before it focused on Mrs. Sherwood, she could have sworn she saw a flash of an emotion she'd hoped never to see again.

Mrs. Sherwood didn't seem to have noticed when he came in and jumped when he spoke, interrupting the flow of her lecture. "Mrs. Sherwood, we need to talk," he said, not bothering to keep his voice low so the rest of the class couldn't hear. Everybody looked up.

Mrs. Sherwood blinked before responding. "Well as you can see, I'm in the middle of a class right now. Could you come back in say," she looked at her watch, "an hour, after school?"

"No! We have to talk now. You screwed me over and now you have to fix it."

"I'm sorry Mr. Hanson, but you're just going to have to come back later."

"I can't come back later!" he shouted.

"Again, I'm sorry, but I just can't focus on you and my class at the same time. You'll have to wait."

Emily could tell Mrs. Sherwood had said the wrong thing the moment the words left her mouth.

The boy, Hanson, tensed up and his eyes flashed again, this time with recognizable anger. "Why don't you focus on this then?" He reached into his baggy shorts and pulled something out.

A collective gasp went around the room and more than a few people started to whimper.

"Oh damn," Emily whispered.

In the boy's hand was a shiny pistol and the business end was pointed directly at Mrs. Sherwood's nose. One thing was sure: this history class had just become a lot less boring.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

**Personal Disclaimer: Any similarities between these characters and real people and events are intentional, but should not be taken as any indication of my mental state. The fact that my life inspired a hostage story is purely coincidental.**

**Time: Mid to late 1980s.**

**Setting: Ronald Reagan High School. Senior Year.**

**Genre: Action/Adventure, Crime, Friendship, Romance**

**Warning: "I only speak two languages: English and bad English."—Corbin Dallas, _The Fifth Element_. Consider yourself warned, foul language ahead.**

**Summary: It all started because of history. When their high school class is taken hostage, Matt makes the foolish choice of trying to reason with the HT. Emily's just there to save all their butts.**

* * *

**Because of History**

Chapter 2

_Previously:_

_In the boy's hand was a shiny pistol and the business end was pointed directly at Mrs. Sherwood's nose. One thing was sure: this history class had just become a lot less boring._

--M--

Matt was bored. He was in a boring class, with a boring teacher, listening to a boring subject. He was very, very, very bored.

That is until a guy walked into said boring class and aimed a gun at said boring teacher.

Maybe it was the gun or perhaps he was just that bored, but something in Matt snapped. An image of white walls and the sickly sweet smell of disinfectant invaded his senses. He stood up before they could come back and walked over to the guy with the gun. "Hi," he said, holding out his hand for the other boy to shake. "I'm Matt Flannery, and you are?"

The other boy looked at him and then down at his outstretched hand, his face incredulous. "What the fuck are you doing man?"

Matt shrugged. "I'm kind of going off my gut here."

The boy looked at him for a moment, obviously unsure how to respond. Without warning, he swung the gun to point at Matt. The rest of the class flinched, but Matt didn't even blink. "Sit down, shut up, now!" he ordered, gesturing with the gun at an empty seat in front of the new girl. Matt thought her name might be Emily something, (Leah, Lehman?) but he could've been wrong.

Like him, the girl didn't seem to be bothered by the gun. She was, however, scowling.

As he sat down in front of her, he thought he heard her mumble something under her breath along the lines of "stupid boy, going to get us all killed, doesn't know what he's doing."

He turned around and gave her his signature, toothy grin, patent pending. Her scowl intensified.

"So, what's your name?" Matt asked conversationally, turning back to the gunman.

--E--

Matt Flannery was going to get them all killed, Emily just knew it. She didn't know many people here, but she knew Flannery. Everyone did.

Captain of both the debate team and the football team, he had been elected class president in a landslide and was easily the most popular kid at Ronald Reagan High, possibly in the greater LA area.

He was the kind of guy you either loved or hated with a passion. With his winning grin and shaggy-dog hair, he had all the teachers and the majority of the staff wrapped around his little finger, particularly the females. The puppy dog eyes of his just cemented the deal.

But as potent as his hair, grin, and eyes were, their power paled in comparison with his tongue. He could talk bees out of their honey and make them think they'd planned to give it to him the whole time. Poor grades vanished in the blink of an eye and his speeches left people in tears. He would make one hell of a politician one day if he weren't so stubborn all the time.

Matt Flannery's stubbornness was legendary. It was part of what made him such a great debater. He took a position and nothing and no one could change his mind. But while some people might be able to consider his stubbornness a good thing, his other fault was harder to forgive.

He was extremely egotistical. He wasn't necessarily arrogant, but he tended to think of himself as invincible. This combined with his stubbornness often led to some seriously sticky situations.

Like now for instance.

If Emily knew Flannery — and she did know Flannery — then he had gotten it into his head to bring this guy Hanson down, and nothing short of Hanson's surrender or one or both of their deaths was going to stop him.

They were all dead.

--M--

"Tom. Tom Hanson." The boy said. His was back to facing Mrs. Sherwood, his gun returned to its original target, but his eyes kept flashing between Matt and the teacher.

"It's nice to meet you Tommy," Matt said smiling again. Tom winced slightly at the nickname, but didn't say anything. "If you don't mind me asking, what is it you want?"

Tom's hand tightened on the gun. "I wanna talk to _her_." He gestured with his gun at Mrs. Sherwood. She leaned back further in her seat, but didn't say anything.

"Then why the gun?"

"She won't listen."

"There are other ways you know, besides resorting to violence," Matt said calmly. Behind him, Emily inhaled sharply.

"Don't go telling me what to do!" Tom cried angrily. "You don't know anything! I could shoot you where you stand right now!" He turned the gun on Matt.

"Don't patronize him," Emily whispered. "He's got to think you're on his side."

"No shit," Matt whispered back hotly, lifting both his hands. "Hold on there, Tom, just calm down."

Tom snarled. "You think I didn't try a different way? I tried! I tried everything. I sent her damn letters, left her fucking messages, and I've come here everyday for the past fucking five days. She says we'll talk, but she's always busy. Now she's got to listen." He turned back to Mrs. Sherwood. His grip tightened even more.

"You're right, she shouldn't have been trying to avoid you," Matt said soothingly.

"Damn right." He lowered the gun slightly. "I was a good student. I stayed awake during her boring, shit-hole lectures, I did my homework, I answered her fucked-up questions, and for what? So I could get goddamn fucking screwed! This goddamn bitch screwed me over! I was so close, so close to getting out. And now? Now it's all ruined. All because of her!" The gun, which he had been slowly lowering, rose back up to point at Mrs. Sherwood's forehead. "This bitch screwed me."

"How—"

"Don't!" Emily whispered sharply.

But it was too late; Matt had already finished the question. "How did she screw you?"

"You idiot! You're supposed to be calming him down, not making him more angry!" Emily said harshly in his ear. "You're making it worse!"

"Now you tell me?" Matt responded.

Tom was pacing, walking back and forth in front of Mrs. Sherwood's desk. "This class was supposed to be my ticket out. I pass this class and I graduate and can leave this hellhole of a city behind. One fucking class! I can't take anymore of this shit!"

"I know exactly what you mean."

Tom suddenly stopped pacing and stood stock still, staring down at Matt. "Like hell you do. You're just a spoiled little rich kid who's had everything handed to them on a silver-fucking platter. You, Mr. Student-body President, know nothing about me."

A girl in the back row started crying.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

**Personal Disclaimer: Any similarities between these characters and real people and events are intentional, but should not be taken as any indication of my mental state. The fact that my life inspired a hostage story is purely coincidental.**

**Time: Mid to late 1980s.**

**Setting: Ronald Reagan High School. Senior Year.**

**Genre: Action/Adventure, Crime, Friendship, Romance**

**Warning: "I only speak two languages: English and bad English."—Corbin Dallas, _The Fifth Element_. Consider yourself warned, foul language ahead.**

**Summary: It all started because of history. When their high school class is taken hostage, Matt makes the foolish choice of trying to reason with the HT. Emily's just there to save all their butts.**

**A/N: I'd just like to give a quick shout-out to the only three people who've given me any indication that someone is actually reading this story:_ hicktownhotti_e,_ leetvfan_, and _Blueninja33_. I really appreciate it. I'm just sorry it's been so long since I updated last. Summer freedom is more oxymoronic in my case than anything else. I'll try to have the next chapter up soon.

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**Because of History**

Chapter 3

_Previously:_

_Tom suddenly stopped pacing and stood stock still, staring down at Matt. "Like hell you do. You're just a spoiled little rich kid who's had everything handed to them on a silver-fucking platter. You, Mr. Student-body President, know nothing about me."_

-E-

The room went palpably tenser, if that were possible. Emily could practically feel Matt's muscles clench. She knew he wanted to respond, but he couldn't, not now. Who knew what would happen if Tom got any angrier? He had to calm down and calm down fast or things would end up going the same way as before with _H__im_.

"Relax, Flannery, just relax." Emily spoke so softly that she wasn't sure if he heard. "Don't let him get you mad. It'll just make things worse. For all of us."

Matt looked directly into Tom's eyes. His stare wasn't challenging, but there was a hardness behind it. Both men were judging each other, calculating.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself then?" Matt said coolly after several long minutes had passed.

"Why should I?" Tom asked.

Emily expected him to say something stupid like, "Because I want to know," or some equally false statement, but he surprised her.

"Because Mrs. Sherwood is boring."

Tom's forehead wrinkled. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I never learn anything in Mrs. Sherwood's class because she's so boring. You're not boring, so I might learn something." Matt shrugged.

"You're crazy man, you know that?" Tom said. His tone was a mix of awe and incredulity.

"Yeah, but you're supposed to be talking about yourself."

This was risky. Emily had taken a psychology class at her old school and there had been a whole chapter on people's psychological need for control. One of the things the book stressed was that people would go to any lengths to get what they perceived as control over their situation — lengths like say, holding a gun to their teacher's head. If Tom thought Flannery was trying to take control over what he considered his hold-up, he was liable to get violent.

There was a long pause during which Matt's fate remained uncertain, but eventually Tom nodded.

"You wanna hear about me? Well I'll tell you. There're only two things you need to know about me: I've got a gun and I'm not afraid to use it."

"You have any family Tom?"

"Careful Flannery. Let him control the situation," Emily muttered.

"I'm just keeping him talking," Matt muttered back.

Tom started to pace again. His gun swung loosely by his side. "I've got two brothers, a dad, and a grandfather," he said slowly.

"Oh, how are they?"

"I don't want to talk about them."

"Why not?"

Emily saw Matt cringe. Obviously he hadn't meant to say that. At least he was trying to take her advice. That was some comfort.

At this point, Emily became aware of some voices whispering several seats behind her. She tuned in.

"We can take him now, while Flannery's got him distracted."

"Maybe we should wait a bit longer. The bell will ring in a few minutes, then he'll have to let us go."

"Not necessarily. We're in the last classroom on the hall. Nobody will pass by the window."

"Surely somebody will notice if we don't go home?"

"Yeah, but that could be a while. I don't know about you, but my parents are used to me coming home late."

"Mine too." The voice paused. "What about the janitors?"

"Nah, they did this hall yesterday. I'm telling you, it could be a long time before anybody finds us, and who knows what this psycho will have done by then? I say we take him down now, before he has a chance to shoot us."

Emily turned to face the two speakers. The bigger one with blond hair and an unattractive mole on his chin was the one she assumed had been in favor of immediate action. His buddy was smaller both in width and presumably height and looked to be some kind of mix between black and Hispanic. Despite their difference in height and breadth, both were impressively buff. They probably played sports, most likely football.

"Hey, you two." They didn't look up at her stage whisper. She spoke a bit louder. "Hey, you two!" They looked up. "How do you intend to get all the way to the front of the room without him noticing so that you can jump him?"

"We'll tiptoe," the blond said sarcastically.

"Somehow I doubt that'll be effective. You two are hardly Tinkerbelle."

"It'll be better than sitting here, waiting for Mr. Nutto to crack."

"I'm sure you'll be thinking differently when it's your blood on the floor. Just wait a little longer. Flannery's almost got him."

"How would you know?"

"Just trust me."

"Why should we?"

She didn't have an answer to that. Why should they trust her? She'd just been in this kind of situation before. Not that they needed to know that. "Fine, don't trust me. Trust Flannery." She turned around.

-M-

"Why not?"

That had been a really stupid thing to say. A really, really stupid thing to say. Hadn't she just warned him not to try to take control? He didn't know why he was listening to her anyway, but he was. There was something comforting about knowing there was someone behind you to back you up, no pun intended. Besides, she sounded like knew what she was doing and God knows he didn't.

Matt wondered why that was. How did this girl from nowhere seem to know so much about how to handle guys with guns? Maybe she was from some place where people got taken hostage all the time. New York maybe? He should remember to ask her—if they made it out of here alive that is.

He had the sudden urge to turn and look at her. He hadn't seen her face since they'd first gotten into this mess. He hadn't really paid much attention to her before. He wondered if she was still scowling. Probably, after his last comment to Tom.

Tom was still pacing, avoiding Matt's eyes. He still hadn't answered Matt's question.

"I'm sorry," Matt said. "I shouldn't have asked that. It's none of my business. You don't have to answer."

Tom paused, turning the gun over in his hand. "My grandfather's sick. Too many cigarettes as a kid he says. Blames it on the war. Ciggies and Spam, what every growing soldier needs." Tom gave an ironic laugh. "Made it to Germany and back without a scratch and it's the rations that kill him. This is his gun you know." He held up the gun for Matt to see.

Several girls in the front flinched. Tom looked at them disapprovingly. "I'm not going to shoot you. Not now anyway. I'm not here for you," he said calmly.

"You could let them go you know," Matt suggested carefully. Tom hesitated. "Not all of them if you don't want to, just a few. Just to show you're not a bad guy."

Tom considered for a few moments. "They promise not to tell anyone what's going on?"

Matt looked around the classroom. About half the class was watching them talk in rapt attention. Three kids were crying and a few more looked like they were about to start. Two were in the back playing cards. One person was still sleeping. Mrs. Sherwood, the cause of this whole mess, was still in her chair and looked too scared to say anything.

Matt's eyes lingered a second longer on Emily's chocolate brown ones. Neither one of them said anything, but Matt got the message. Don't lie to him.

"I can't speak for the rest of the class, but I can say that letting some people go might make them more inclined to be sympathetic."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

**Personal Disclaimer: Any similarities between these characters and real people and events are intentional, but should not be taken as any indication of my mental state. The fact that my life inspired a hostage story is purely coincidental.**

**Time: Mid to late 1980s.**

**Setting: Ronald Reagan High School. Senior Year.**

**Genre: Action/Adventure, Crime, Friendship, Romance**

**Warning: "I only speak two languages: English and bad English."—Corbin Dallas, _The Fifth Element_. Consider yourself warned, foul language ahead.**

**Summary: It all started because of history. When their high school class is taken hostage, Matt makes the foolish choice of trying to reason with the HT. Emily's just there to save all their butts.**

**A/N: Wow. I know it's been a long time-a really long time really-but I've been at camp for the past month and only just got back. I'd like to thank everybody that's stuck with me all this time and the few newbies that just dropped in. Thanks, it really means a lot to me. As I've mentioned before, this story is complete, so I'll try to have the rest of it posted very soon. Only four more chapters left including the epilogue. **

**

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**Because of History**

Chapter 4

_Previously:_

_"You could let them go you know," Matt suggested carefully. Tom hesitated. "Not all of them if you don't want to, just a few. Just to show you're not a bad guy." _

_Tom considered for a few moments. "They promise not to tell anyone what's going on?"_

_"I can't speak for the rest of the class, but I can say that letting some people go might make them more inclined to be sympathetic."_

-M-

"I'll let ten people go."

"How about fifteen? That's half the class out of the way." Time was running out. They had to get as many kids out as possible before too many people got suspicious. The bell had already rung several minutes ago. Matt expected Emily to say something to him about pushing it, but she was silent. He held Tom's gaze and waited with baited breath for his response. With any luck, Tom would be willing to negotiate.

Tom's hand tightened around his gun. "Twelve."

Matt gave a silent sigh of relief. For a moment there he'd thought Tom was about to shoot him. "Fourteen and one of them brings back pizza."

"Fine, fourteen, but hold the pizza. I want their word in writing that they won't tell anyone."

Matt blinked. Hadn't he just said that he couldn't promise their silence? "I'm not sure a contract is going to keep anyone from spilling the beans."

Tom shrugged. "I trust them. Besides, it's not like it really matters anymore. Does anyone have some paper and a pencil?"

A girl in the front row raised her hand. Matt thought her name was Lea. She'd definitely had a crush on him back in ninth grade, but considering who he was, that really didn't help narrow down the names. Even in his head that sounded arrogant. He winced.

"I have some. What do you want it say?" she said, her pencil already poised.

Tom cleared his throat nervously. "Umm. 'By signing this contract, I give my word that I will not report the events that occurred in Mrs. Sherwood's history class, today, Friday, May twenty-ninth,'" Tom recited slowly. Tom glanced at Matt for his approval.

"Very official sounding," Matt said approvingly. He forced his voice to be neutral, but inside he was whooping for joy. Fourteen was more than he'd hoped. He'd have been happy with just thirteen. "Who do you want to release?"

Tom scanned the crowd. His eyes rested for a moment on Emily, and Matt felt his heart jump. He didn't wish this situation on anybody for any longer than absolutely necessary, but Emily was his backup. Not that he'd ever admit it to her, but he didn't think he could make it through this without her calming presence over his shoulder.

"Okay, you four, you six, you, you, you, and you, sign the contract." Tom pointed at them with his gun. Most of them were the ones who had cried or were crying, the others appeared to be random. The girl who'd taken dictation was also among them.

The last one was Emily. Matt's stomach seemed to drop somewhere around his ankles. He couldn't lose her, but he couldn't make her stay either.

They passed the contract around until everyone - even those not leaving - had signed it.

Tom picked it up and read through it one more time. Confident that they'd all given their word, he gestured to the door, indicating they could leave.

Thirteen students stood up and practically bolted to the door. Emily, however, stayed where she was. Matt felt an overwhelming sense of relief, which was quickly replaced by guilt.

Tom looked at her. "Why aren't you leaving?" he asked.

Emily shrugged. "I don't have anywhere else to be right now."

Tom raised both his eyebrows. "You do know I have a gun right?"

"You said you weren't here to hurt me and I believe you. If you were, why would you be letting me go?"

"I can go in her place!" a guy in the middle cried.

Tom looked at him for a moment before nodding. "Go."

The boy ran out the door.

Several minutes later, Tom broke the long period of silence that had followed the last boy's release, making the remainder of the class jump. "What is it with this class and heroes? Did you all take stupid pills this morning or something?" Tom asked.

"I don't know about the rest of the class, but I only take mine on Monday," Matt deadpanned.

Tom paused before suddenly and inexplicably laughing.

-E-

Emily was surprised at just how good a negotiator Flannery was turning out to be. Sure, he'd had his rough patches, but he'd actually managed to get Tom to release fourteen students! At best, Emily had only counted on him get five or six. Perhaps there was more to him than she'd thought.

"You're not how I expected you to be, you know?" Tom said, after he finished laughing.

"Oh?" Matt said, quirking an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

"I always kind of imagined you as sort of an ass."

"I'm that too, trust me."

"But you're also really brave. Coming up to me like that. I didn't know what hit me!" Tom laughed again.

"Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking." Matt shrugged.

"I guess I'm not all that scary huh?" He looked down and fiddled with his gun. Emily was suddenly struck with an image of a sad little boy waiting bashfully on the edge of the playground for someone to play with him.

"You're plenty scary, don't worry about that."

"None of you look very scared." Tom looked pointedly up at the room.

Emily followed his gaze. The two buff boys she'd overheard earlier were still there. They did look more angry than scared. Everybody else just looked bored. The only one still shaking was Mrs. Sherwood. The guy in the back was still sleeping.

"We were in the beginning," Matt said.

"You weren't."

"Yeah I was." Tom still looked unconvinced. "You know what I was thinking as I walked up to you?" Tom shook his head. "I was thinking of the day my mother died." Matt paused for a moment and looked over at her. She nodded her head slightly, indicating that he should continue. This was the perfect opportunity to establish a personal connection, something that had been lacking in their earlier conversations. The closer they were, the less likely it was that anyone would get shot.

"She was a cop. It was a convenience store robbery," Matt began haltingly. "She wasn't even on duty. She was there to buy me a bag of candy for school. I needed it for the Valentine's Day party. They brought her to the hospital. They wouldn't let me say goodbye. I was twelve." Matt's voice hitched. He took a deep breath and wiped some moisture out of his eye. "I really didn't want to die. How pathetic is that?" He gave a shaky, false laugh that carried no mirth. It didn't sound right coming from person like him.

The room was silent for a long time, no one knowing quite what to say. Finally Tom once again broke the silence.

"My mom's dead too. Overdosed on prescription meds. My dad took it pretty hard. Ended up drinking himself into a prison cell after breaking into one too many liquor stores. My brothers are there to keep him company. My pops is decent though, but you know, dying." Tom gave a rueful chuckle. "That's why I'm here. He wants me to go to college—be the first one in our family. I'm not too smart and we don't have much money, but if I pass this class I'll have enough credits to get into a state college and might even qualify for some scholarships. That's all over now though." Tom went quiet.

"Why is it over?" Emily asked, not able to curb her curiosity.

"Besides the fact that I took a classroom hostage?" Tom looked at her, both eyebrows raised. "What university, even a state one, is going to let a felon in, much less give him a scholarship?"

Emily shrugged. "You never know."

"Trust me, I know. But even if they did, there's still the fact that I've failed this class."

"But you did all your work, you said," Matt broke in. "How is you still failed?"

"I don't know!" Tom threw up his hands, his gun still clutched loosely in his right. "That's why I wanted to talk to her." He pointed at Mrs. Sherwood with the gun. "I had a low C in here for most of the year, but when I talked to my counselor last week, she said I had an F in this class. I wanted to know what happened, but Mrs. Sherwood was avoiding me."

"I wasn't avoiding you." Mrs. Sherwood's voice was quiet, but clear. Tom jumped up to face her, still holding his gun.

"Yeah right. You were never there when I needed to talk!"

"I've been busy."

"That's a load of shit and you know it!" Tom shouted, waving the gun at her.

Emily caught Matt's eyes. It was clear what they were both thinking and what they were thinking was not a happy thought.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

**Personal Disclaimer: Any similarities between these characters and real people and events are intentional, but should not be taken as any indication of my mental state. The fact that my life inspired a hostage story is purely coincidental.**

**Time: Mid to late 1980s.**

**Setting: Ronald Reagan High School. Senior Year.**

**Genre: Action/Adventure, Crime, Friendship, Romance**

**Warning: "I only speak two languages: English and bad English."—Corbin Dallas, _The Fifth Element_. Consider yourself warned, foul language ahead.**

**Summary: It all started because of history. When their high school class is taken hostage, Matt makes the foolish choice of trying to reason with the HT. Emily's just there to save all their butts.**

**A/N: I'll update again on Wednesday. Only three more chapters. **

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**Because of History**

Chapter 5

_Previously:_

_"I wasn't avoiding you." Mrs. Sherwood's voice was quiet, but clear. Tom jumped up to face her, still holding his gun._

_"Yeah right. You were never there when I needed to talk!" _

_"I've been busy."_

_"That's a load of shit and you know it!" Tom shouted, waving the gun at her._

_Emily caught Matt's eyes. It was clear what they were both thinking was not a happy thought. _

-M-

"Woo, buddy, slow down," Matt said, getting up from his chair to stand next to Tom. "Why don't you give her a moment to explain?"

There was a long pause following Matt's words during which nobody moved.

Tom glared at Mrs. Sherwood, his jaw clenched and his hand tensed around the weapon. Suddenly he snapped, "Well, you going to explain then?"

Mrs. Sherwood's bottom lip quivered, but she met Tom's stony stare. "I've been under review. There have been… complaints." She didn't elaborate.

"What kind of complaints?" Tom asked briskly.

Mrs. Sherwood took her time before responding. "People have been complaining… about my teaching. It may have escaped your notice, but apparently I'm not a very good teacher."

"It hadn't escaped our notice," Tom said coldly.

Matt thought that might be a little harsh, even if was somewhat justified. Yeah, she wasn't the best of teachers and her quizzes were insane, but at least they forced him to read the book. He'd never had to do that before and considered the fact that he had to now good preparation for college. In that sense at least, Mrs. Sherwood was one of the best teachers he'd ever had. He considered telling Tom this, but given his present level of agitation, deemed it unwise.

"Or the administration's," said Mrs. Sherwood wryly. She didn't seem surprised or offended by Tom's remark. "They've had me jumping through hoops all month."

"What sort of hoops?" Tom asked suspiciously.

Mrs. Sherwood gave a passive shrug. "All kinds. I had to assemble a portfolio of student's work, submit to several rounds of interviews, find students and parents who were willing to speak for me, that kind of thing. That last part was especially hard."

"I can imagine," Tom mumbled.

"Yeah, well." She sniffed. "I— I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, I really am." Her voice broke and she looked close to tears.

Tom looked down at his feet and fiddled with his gun nervously. Matt thought he might have whispered something like "S'okay" as well, but he wasn't sure.

"I really love history, you know," Mrs. Sherwood said after a long pause. "It was one of my favorite subjects in school. It's because of history that I decided to become a teacher in the first place. I'd always thought I might become a writer."

"Then why did you decide to teach?" Tom asked, still staring at his feet.

"I loved English and history about the same, but when we had to declare a major in college, I said history instead of English because my history professor was cuter." Mrs. Sherwood snorted derisively. "Anyway, I guess I never thought about what I was going to do with a history degree. Turns out there aren't many things you can do. It's either teach or get married. I did both."

-E-

At what point did this go from a serious, life threatening situation to a pity party? Emily wasn't sure, but that didn't make it any less fascinating. Already she had learned more "history" about her classmates and Mrs. Sherwood than she'd learned from Mrs. Sherwood alone all year. More than once, she'd been inclined to reveal some of her darker secrets too. A classic symptom of Stockholm Syndrome. She'd have to work on keeping that in check. It would not do to lose perspective.

"Why didn't you just write historical fiction?" she asked. Damn her and her curiosity, she'd just had to ask.

Mrs. Sherwood gave a watery smile. "I could never think of a good enough plot. Nothing interesting ever happens to me." Almost everyone smiled appreciably at the irony. Emily's, however, was faked.

She was starting to worry. For one thing, she'd heard more whispering behind her about jumping Tom, and though they still hadn't come to a conclusion as to when, she feared they might soon. For another, that guy in the back was still sleeping. Either he was dead or the home economics classroom was missing a mannequin.

-M-

As interesting as it was to learn about this other side to his supposedly boring teacher, something was still bothering Matt. Something very important. Something that was very relevant to why they were here. Something he just had to ask, consequences be damned.

"Mrs. Sherwood, there's still one thing you haven't explained," Matt said.

"Oh?" Mrs. Sherwood looked at him. "What exactly?"

"Why has Tom failed your class?" Tom glanced up at the sound of his name and met Mrs. Sherwood's eyes again.

"Honestly?" She halted for a moment. "I have no idea. He passed his semester exam, so his grade should still be a C. The counselor must have made a mistake."

Tom's face lit up. "Are you saying I passed?" he cried, joyful for once.

Mrs. Sherwood nodded and smiled. "Mm-hm. With a seventy-six if I recall correctly."

"Alright Tommy!" Matt held up his hand for a high five, which Tom happily gave him.

"Why didn't you say that earlier?" Emily asked Mrs. Sherwood. Matt looked from Emily back to Mrs. Sherwood. Come to think of it, why hadn't she? It would have saved them all a great deal of grief.

Mrs. Sherwood blushed. "I was too scared."

"See I told you, you were scary!" Matt said, thumping Tom on the back. But Tom didn't seem to notice. His eyes were wide and he was clutching the gun to his chest. "What's wrong Tom?" Matt asked, concern evident in his voice.

"I passed," Tom whispered. "I'm fucking doomed."

Matt furrowed his brow. "What?" Tom held up the gun and wagged it in front of Tom's eyes. "Oh…." Matt said, realization dawning. "Surely we can—"

-E-

It was over before she'd even registered what was happening. The two boys who'd been conspiring all this time chose that moment to lunge. Of all the stupid moments in time, of all the stupid ideas in history, this one was the stupidest.

The two football players came at Tom from behind, knocking him off balance. The gun went flying out of his hand and Matt was shoved backwards.

A loud bang echoed through the classroom.

_What is it with these hero types and always coming in too strong too late?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

**Personal Disclaimer: Any similarities between these characters and real people and events are intentional, but should not be taken as any indication of my mental state. The fact that my life inspired a hostage story is purely coincidental.**

**Time: Mid to late 1980s.**

**Setting: Ronald Reagan High School. Senior Year.**

**Genre: Action/Adventure, Crime, Friendship, Romance**

**Warning: "I only speak two languages: English and bad English."—Corbin Dallas, _The Fifth Element_. Consider yourself warned, foul language ahead.**

**Summary: It all started because of history. When their high school class is taken hostage, Matt makes the foolish choice of trying to reason with the HT. Emily's just there to save all their butts.**

**A/N: Hey look, I actually updated when I said I would! I'm getting better. Sorry about the cliffy last chapter; I just couldn't resist ending it there. Oh yeah, I fixed chapter 4. It was a bit wonky. I also changed a few minor details. If you don't want to reread it, just know that everybody did sign the contract. Two more chapters. **

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**Because of History**

Chapter 6

_Previously:_

_The two football players came at Tom from behind, knocking him off balance. The gun went flying out of his hand and Matt was shoved backwards. _

_A loud bang echoed through the classroom._

-E-

For a moment Emily couldn't move, couldn't breath, couldn't feel, couldn't do anything. The gun had gone off. The gun had gone off. It was the only coherent thought in her head. The gun had gone off. It was just like last time. Last time. No, this time!

Someone was saying something over and over beside her. "It wasn't loaded. It wasn't loaded. It wasn't loaded." What kind of mantra was that?

Then reality sunk back in. The gun wasn't loaded! That could only mean one thing: it hadn't gone off! But then why was Matt bleeding on the floor? Holy fuck, Matt was bleeding!

Emily ran to him, gently lifting his head onto her lap. "Matt! Matt! Focus. Can you see me?"

He murmured something incoherent. His eyes were unfocused and his eyelids were sliding shut.

"Matt, stay with me! Come on, Matt!" she screamed at him. He didn't respond.

She looked up. Everyone was just standing there, staring at her and the growing puddle of blood flowing from the back of Matt's head. "Somebody call an ambulance! Now!" She ordered.

Nobody moved for several seconds. Then Emily's words seemed to register, and Mrs. Sherwood lunged for the phone on her desk.

Confident that the ambulance at least was being taken care of, Emily turned back to Matt. He was mumbling something. She lowered her ear to his mouth. It took three tries before she got the full message: "Don't let them shave my head." Typical Matt Flannery. She'd almost have laughed if her hands hadn't been sticky with his blood.

His eyes slid shut and his lips stopped moving. Emily felt her heart skip. "Oh no you don't!" she said. "Wake up! Wake up!" Emily shook his shoulders, willing him to open his eyes again.

-M-

It's funny how quickly things change. One minute you're in class being bored out of your mind, and the next you're being taken hostage. Just like how one minute you can be reassuring a new friend that he won't be going to prison, and the next… well you're not really sure what happened.

Matt was vaguely aware of shouting above him and a pair of particularly beautiful, milk chocolate brown eyes floating just out of reach. Other than that, he wasn't really aware of anything.

His head hurt. Maybe. He wasn't sure. Everything was kind of… distant.

Why was everything so white?

-E-

It seemed to take forever for the ambulance to arrive, though in retrospect it was really only a few minutes. She wasn't sure who let them in since the school was probably locked this late in the afternoon, but somehow they were beside her.

"What happened?" one EMT asked. Emily forced herself to focus on him and not Matt who was currently being examined by two other EMTs. It was hard. Her eyes kept returning to his prone form.

"He fell and hit his head on the desk. He went unconscious about," she paused and looked at her watch, which was pointless because she didn't know the exact time he went unconscious anyway. There was a smear of blood on the glass. "A few minutes before we called you. I tried to keep him awake."

The EMT nodded. "Good, good. You did good. Do you know how we can get in touch with his parents?"

Emily shook her head. "His mother's dead." They were about to load him onto a stretcher. "Can I go with him?" She didn't know why she asked.

The EMT took in her bloody jeans and wide-eyed stare. "You his girlfriend?"

"Yes," she responded without thinking, but it was too late to take it back anyway.

The EMT nodded his head. "Come on then."

She trotted after the medics down the deserted school hallway, the eerie silence broken only by the rattle of the gurney's wheel. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her. Someone she couldn't see.

Her ghost followed her into the ambulance.

She reached for Matt's hand. "He doesn't want you to shave his head."

-M-

Something was beeping. His alarm clock? It was very irritating. He should turn it off. But he was so comfortable right now. He should go back to sleep. Sleep was nice. His pillow was warm and soft and smelled like disinfectant.

Matt's eyes snapped open. Pillows only smell like disinfectant in one place and that was one place he did not want to be. He tried to sit up, but something stopped him. A voice.

"I wouldn't recommend that if I were you."

Matt turned to look at the source of the voice. It was a girl with wavy red hair and chocolate eyes. He recognized those eyes. That was Emma, no Emily. She was in his history class.

History class. Hostage. Tom Hansen. Gun. Pain.

"Did somebody shoot me?" His mouth felt dry and cottony and his words came out wispy and weak.

Emily shook her head. "You weren't shot, you just fell. Don't worry though; a desk broke your fall. And your head. Good thing it's so hard or it could have been your skull too."

"Huh?" Matt blinked, trying to make sense out of whatever she'd just said. "How long have I been out of it?"

"About a day. You got a pretty bad concussion yesterday and went into what doctors call a mini-coma. The doctors were starting to get worried."

"Why are you here?" He didn't mean for it to come out mean or accusatory, but from her expression, he guessed that's how it had sounded.

"I can leave if you want," she said, making to get up.

"No, stay. It's fine. I'm just curious as to why you're here."

Emily looked down. "Well we couldn't get a hold of your father or your brother—"

"They're at baseball camp. I wasn't invited," Matt broke in.

"Yeah, well, I didn't want you waking up alone is all." She blushed.

"Oh." Matt didn't know what else to say. He looked at her, sitting there with that adorable blush. He could feel one of his own coming on. "Thanks, I guess."

"No problem." Her blush intensified, if it were possible.

"You were here all night?"

"I didn't have anywhere else to be just then."

Matt chuckled, remembering those words from when she'd stayed with him in the classroom. "Weren't your parents worried?"

Emily shrugged. "I told them I was staying over with a friend. I left out the part about it being a boy."

"And in a hospital." Matt grinned.

"Nah, they don't care where I am as long as I'm not having sex."

Matt didn't know whether this was a joke or not, but he laughed at it all the same. As it turned out, this wasn't such a smart idea. He felt instantly woozy and light headed. He jammed his eyes shut to keep the room from spinning out of control.

He felt Emily put her hand on his arm. "You okay?" she asked, her voice layered with concern.

"Yeah, fine," he said opening his eyes. Emily's face was a lot closer and their eyes met. Suddenly he felt light-headed again, but something told him it wasn't because of the concussion.

Emily blinked and the spell was broken. "All the same, I think you should go back to sleep now."

"I don't want to," he started, but Emily cut him off.

"Don't want to hear it. Sleep," she said briskly.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" Matt asked, his eyes already beginning to slide shut. Considering the long nap he'd just had, one would think he wouldn't be tired, but he was. He was very, very tired. And someone was stroking his hair. His mother used to stroke his hair. He missed his mother…..


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

**Personal Disclaimer: Any similarities between these characters and real people and events are intentional, but should not be taken as any indication of my mental state. The fact that my life inspired a hostage story is purely coincidental.**

**Time: Mid to late 1980s.**

**Setting: Ronald Reagan High School. Senior Year.**

**Genre: Action/Adventure, Crime, Friendship, Romance**

**Warning: "I only speak two languages: English and bad English."—Corbin Dallas, _The Fifth Element_. Consider yourself warned, foul language ahead.**

**Summary: It all started because of history. When their high school class is taken hostage, Matt makes the foolish choice of trying to reason with the HT. Emily's just there to save all their butts.**

**A/N: Only the epilogue left! I think I'll post it today. I'm kind of anxious to get this over with. Believe it or not, I actually wrote the whole story in a weekend; it's just taken me what, nearly three months to finish posting it all. Gees! You guys must be pissed. If you're still reading that is. But hey! You're about to hear Emily's secret, that's got to be worth something right? **

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**Because of History**

Chapter 7

_Previously:_

_Emily shook her head. "You weren't shot, you just fell. Don't worry though, a desk broke your fall. And your head. Good thing it's so hard or it could have been your skull too."_

_"Will you be here when I wake up?" Matt asked, his eyes already beginning to slide shut. _

-E-

Matt Flannery had to be the most troublesome boy in the whole western hemisphere. She'd say the world, but since she'd never met everybody in the world, she didn't want to over generalize.

She didn't even know why she bothered with him at all. Why had she bothered to help him placate Tom? Why had she bothered to help him after he hit his head? Why had she bothered to stay with him at the hospital for two bloody nights in a row? Why?

Okay, so most of that was because she was a nice person and nice people just don't let other people get dead. It was against the nice person code of ethics.

That would account for her help during the negotiation and the accident, but there really was no excuse for the hospital.

Except maybe because he had asked her. That was another thing nice people didn't do: let other people wake up in a hospital alone, particularly if they've been asked not to. Even if that other person is someone as bothersome as Matt Flannery.

Sometimes it really sucked to be a nice person.

Like now for instance.

She couldn't remember the last time her back had been this stiff or her butt had been this numb. What is it with hospitals and uncomfortable, plastic chairs? You'd think they'd at least have better seats in the actual rooms.

She stood up to stretch her back.

Thankfully she wasn't still covered in blood like last night. She'd gone home right after Matt had fallen asleep yesterday for a quick shower and a change of clothes. She'd made sure to hurry back though. Her parents didn't even notice she was there. They never did anymore. Not since Chloe.

"Emily?"

She looked up at the bed at the sound of her name. Matt was finally awake it seemed. "Hey," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "How you feeling?"

"Like I got hit with a two-by-four, which is a step up from yesterday's bus."

Emily chuckled. "Well you certainly slept long enough."

"You leaving?" His soulful brown eyes gazed up at her. It was clear that he hoped she'd say no.

She smiled. "Nah, but these chairs are like sitting on stone planks except less comfortable."

He winced. "Sorry."

"It's okay, you didn't design them."

"You wanna sit on the bed?" He moved his legs to make room for her at the bottom.

She considered his offer for a moment, eying the space he'd made with obvious interest. She sat down.

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?" Matt asked suddenly.

Emily looked puzzled. "When did you see me sleep?"

"I woke up around three yesterday when the doctor came in to check my chart. You were asleep in your chair and talking. We had a good laugh too—me and the doctor. You were busy in another conversation though."

"I do not talk in my sleep!" She said in mock indignation.

"Oh yes you do!" Matt grinned wickedly at her.

"What do I say then?"

Matt scrunched up his face. "I'm not really sure. Something about someone named Chloe, I think. Chloe and Ally. Who are they?"

Emily went stiff. Her teasing smile vanished and she stood up. She didn't meet his eyes as she said, "I think I should go tell the nurse you're awake."

"No, wait." Matt grabbed her wrist before she could get away, forcing her to look at him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. Please don't go."

"I'm not upset, really." She smiled at him, hoping he wouldn't notice it was fake. She pulled her wrist from his grasp, glad at least that he didn't try to stop her.

-M-

Matt didn't know what he'd said or done, but whatever it was, obviously it had been the wrong thing. It had been an hour since she left and he'd had nothing to do but worry and berate himself the whole time. She'd been fine until he'd mentioned Chloe and Ally. Who were they and what had happened to them? What had happened to Emily?

He was just about to shut his eyes and try for some more sleep when he heard his door open. It was Emily. He couldn't control the grin that sprouted across his face.

"I'm sorry," they both said at the same time. They looked at each other and laughed.

"You go first," Matt said.

"Thanks," Emily smiled at him. "Well I just wanted to say sorry for running away like that."

"I'm sorry I made you run away."

"It's fine, really." Emily hesitated. "It's just that I don't like to talk about _them_."

From the emphases, Matt knew that by _them _she meant Chloe and Ally. "Who are they?" He winced. That had just slipped out. Dang curiosity.

Emily didn't talk for a long time, and then she said quietly, "My sisters."

"Oh." Matt didn't know what else to say, so he said nothing.

The room was silent for what felt like a very long time.

"Mrs. Sherwood, Tom, and the two boys who pushed you came by earlier. The nurses wouldn't let them through though," Emily said suddenly.

"That's nice of them," Matt said. "Why weren't they allowed in?"

Emily shrugged. "It's past visiting hours. No one but family is allowed."

"Oh," Matt said again. "Then why are you here?"

Emily blushed and mumbled something under her breath.

"Sorry? Could you repeat that?"

Emily looked at him and repeated what she'd said louder. "I said, 'I might have given the EMTs the impression that I was your girlfriend so they would let me ride with you to the hospital.'" Her blush intensified.

"Oh," he said for a third time. He really needed to work on expanding his vocabulary. He should read more. "That's," he paused, "nice." He cleared his throat and did his best to hide his growing blush as well. "So what did they have to say?"

"Who? Oh, you mean Mrs. Sherwood and that lot?" Matt nodded. "They just wanted to wish you a speedy recovery and see how you were doing. I think the boys wanted to apologize."

"What's going to happen to Tom?"

Emily smiled. "Nothing."

"Really? How did he manage that?"

"It was Mrs. Sherwood. Apparently when the Principal questioned them about the incident, she said that she was starting an afterschool history club and you'd accidently tripped."

"But how did she explain the gun? And what about all the kids? Won't they tell the truth?"

"We don't have to worry about the kids. Mrs. Sherwood offered to drop everyone's lowest quiz score if they promised to honor the contract."

"But what about the gun? Won't Tom get in trouble for bringing a gun to school?"

"Nope. Mrs. Sherwood said that the first history club meeting was to discuss World War 2. She said that Tom had mentioned that his grandfather was a veteran and still had his gun, so she asked him to bring it with him to the meeting. You know, for some hand's on history. She also explained how it was too rusty to fire and that Tom's grandfather didn't have any ammunition anyway. Pretty smart, huh?"

Matt had to admit, it was a pretty plausible story. "So Tom can still go to college?"

"A huh." Emily grinned broadly. "And the principle was so impressed by the history club that he's willing to give Mrs. Sherwood another chance."

"Why that's wonderful!" Matt felt like skipping. Except not really because that would probably hurt his head. "But wait a second, are you saying that gun couldn't fire?"

Emily looked apologetic. "Nope. Tom is a really nice guy. He didn't want to shoot Mrs. Sherwood, just scare her a bit."

"So I risked my life for nothing?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

There was a pause. "Bummer."

They sat there for a long time, neither seemingly willing to break their companionable silence. Matt could feel his eyes beginning to close again. He just couldn't seem to get enough sleep.

-E-

The silence weighed heavily on Emily. She knew Matt was satisfied with everything she'd told him, but she wasn't. She'd come to a conclusion when she'd waited outside his door for that hour. She had never told anyone else about it before, but he had the right to know.

As Matt began to drift off again, Emily knew she had to talk now before she lost her nerve.

"Matt?"

"Hmm," he replied, his eyes still closed.

"I'm going to tell you something and you've got to promise never to repeat it, okay?"

Matt gave a sleepy nod. "Mm-kay."

Emily waited for a moment, wondering where to begin. "My dad's a vet. At least he was. Anyway, we were all at his office one night, preparing to go on a family dinner to celebrate Chloe's acceptance into Princeton. We were all so happy." Emily smiled, remembering her mother's wide grin and her father's corny, celebratory jokes.

Matt's arm flopped onto hers. His eyes were still closed and she wasn't sure if he was awake or not. She took his hand and continued.

"A junkie came in just as Dad was locking up. He had a gun. He wouldn't let us leave until Dad gave him drugs. His eyes—" Emily shuddered and gripped Matt's hand. "They were crazy. He needed drugs so badly. He was desperate for them. Dad refused. Someone outside called the cops. The cops brought in a negotiator.

"We were there all night. The negotiator tried everything, but you can't negotiate with a junkie." Emily took a deep breath. "He shot Chloe in the gut."

Emily felt Matt grip her hand in comfort and she looked at him, but his eyes remained firmly shut. She was glad. She didn't think she'd be able to continue if she saw him look at her with pity in his eyes. She hated it when people did that. Like at Chloe's funeral. All those people with their pity-ridden eyes. What did they know?

Emily took another deep to calm herself. "Snipers took him out shortly after. It didn't help Chloe though. Ally, my second older sister, never fully recovered. She and Chloe were Irish twins and as close as real ones. She ran away from home a couple of months later. We haven't heard from her since. My parents quit their jobs and we moved here." Emily wiped her eyes with her free hand. She hadn't even realized she'd been crying. "So that's my sorry little sob story."

There was a long pause before Matt spoke.

"Thanks for saving my hair."

Emily gave a watery smile and gripped his hand even tighter in her own. Matt always did have a way with words.


	8. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

**Personal Disclaimer: Any similarities between these characters and real people and events are intentional, but should not be taken as any indication of my mental state. The fact that my life inspired a hostage story is purely coincidental.**

**Time: Mid to late 1980s.**

**Setting: Ronald Reagan High School. Senior Year.**

**Genre: Action/Adventure, Crime, Friendship, Romance**

**Warning: "I only speak two languages: English and bad English."—Corbin Dallas, _The Fifth Element_. Consider yourself warned, foul language ahead.**

**Summary: It all started because of history. When their high school class is taken hostage, Matt makes the foolish choice of trying to reason with the HT. Emily's just there to save all their butts.**

**A/N: Tada! The epilogue. I decided to post it after all. It's really short, but it ties it all together. Thank you so much for sticking with me all this time. The answers to the allusion question I posed at the beginning are in the author's note below. **

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**Because of History**

Epilogue

_Fifteen years later…. _

"So when did you two meet?" The question was almost drowned out by the cacophony of clinking china in the D.C. banquet hall. The annual banquet honoring the best of the best of America's law enforcement was always a noisy affair.

Emily Lehman looked over at her fiancé and the two shared a smile. Turning back to their table companions, Emily responded, "Senior year of high school."

"History class," Matt broke in.

"May twenty-ninth," Emily finished.

Johann looked at his wife, Eva. "Wow liefde, what day did we meet?"

Eva slapped him lightly on the arm. "How many times do I have to tell you, English in public."

"Droevig," he said, grinning mischievously. "Sorry," he translated for the non-Dutch speakers at the table.

"Geen probleem," Matt said, winking at Eva.

"You speak Dutch?" Johann said, surprised.

"Well it's a very funny story," Matt began, but Emily cut him off.

"So Eva, you know how we met, how about you two?"

"We were assigned as partners in the NYPD."

"Really?" Emily asked, intrigued.

Eva nodded violently. "Yep. The first thing he said to me was I should put in a request for a new partner now, because I wasn't going to last long."

"What did he mean by that?"

"Well my Johann had a little obsession with death for a while. He got a reputation as being a bit suicidal. Nobody wants a partner like that."

Emily nodded. "I hear you. So why did you stick with him?"

"He was cute." Eva shrugged. "Plus he was one of the best detectives I'd ever worked with. And as it turned out, he wasn't actually suicidal."

"Thanks hart," Johann said, leaning in to kiss his wife's cheek.

"He just thought he was immortal," Eva added with a cheeky smirk. Johann started to pout.

Emily smiled at their banter. "Funny, so did Matt. Right Matt?"

"I did not!"

Emily raised her eyebrow at her fiancé. She turned to Eva. "The day we officially met, Matt walked up to a guy with a gun—"

"In my defense, it wasn't loaded," Matt said quickly.

"But he didn't know that at the time," Emily countered before continuing. "And then, on that very same day, he ended up bleeding profusely from the head and going into a mini-coma because of a severe concussion. You know what he said right before going unconscious?"

"What?" Eva asked, holding back laughter.

"He said, 'Don't let them shave my head.'"

Eva and Johann burst out laughing.

"What?" Matt cried. "I'm very proud of my hair. Is that a crime now?"

"No honey, but it is funny." She kissed him on the head. "And you do have very lovely hair."

"So that's how you got together, because of his concussion?" Eva asked after they'd all stopped laughing.

"Partly," Matt said, looking at Emily.

"Not really though." Emily shook her head. "We didn't really see much of each other after I left for Princeton. It wasn't until after we became partners that we got together."

"Yeah, but I'd liked you since the first day I woke up in the hospital. You made me light-headed."

"I'm pretty sure that was the concussion."

"It was not. It was you." Matt said firmly.

"How do you know?"

"Because of history." Matt was determined.

Emily looked puzzled. "What does that—"

"You two are partners?" Johann asked, effectively ending the debate.

"Yep, crisis negotiators. FBI, LA branch," Emily said.

"Now how did you get into that?" Eva seemed genuinely interested.

Matt and Emily looked directly into each other's eyes. They answered at the same time, "Because of history."

-E&M-

The Beginning of the End

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**Allusion Answers: So the first allusion alluded to in the note in the beginning was character Tom Hansen, named after Johnny Depp's character in the iconic, 1980s undercover cop show, "21 Jump Street." Rookie or baby faced cops go under cover in city schools to cut crime at the roots before it has a chance to grow. Check it out. It's pretty good for a 80s show. Plus Depp is superb. I just thought it fit, cop under cover preventing crime in school, you know. The other allusion is more of an outright homage to the canceled Fox show, "New Amsterdam." A bit of a canceled show unite thing. I used John's real Dutch name, but the characters and story are still the same. For those of you who haven't seen "New Amsterdam," you should know that John actually is immortal, although in this story I'm assuming that Eva is his soul mate so he'd not immortal anymore. I just couldn't resist the joke. Take that ComicNerd! Told you I could fit them both in!**

**A/N: This is only the second multi-chapter fic that I've ever written. The first one was a "Smallville" story called "The Power of Suggestion." That took me six months and was only six chapters. This one took me less than 24 hours and is eight. I've never written so much so fast in my entire life. It all just kind of flowed out. I hope you enjoyed it because I promise you it's never happening again. I'd also like to thank my reluctant beta and sister, ComicNerd. She may be the bane of my existence, but I wouldn't exist without her. Although I am NOT writing a sequel to this, if you're interested, I've also written another "Standoff" story called "Turn Back the Clock." It's on my profile. Now that I've finished my shameful self-advertisement, I'm going to say thank you for reading and goodbye. Thank you for reading and goodbye.**


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